Summary: They would not break her. She would not give in. She'd cling to the memories, and tell them only one thing, "I'm not a spy." One-shot. Pre-Movie. Evelyn/Mike.

A/N: Italics is a flashback, standard is current time. I don't remember how long she was captured… but I think it was two years. If you know, tell me and I'll correct it..

Warning: Torture, nothing too graphic

Every beginning possesses an end, though sometimes the two are twisted together, or flip-flopped, a startling occurrence that some people called going around a full circle. She'd call the concept a load of bullshit though. She had been called many things in life: friend, enemy, servant, leader, rebel, hero, love, traitor; a student and a teacher. She'd never allowed herself to be predictable, always consistently inconsistent because to be consistent was to be dead in her field. She was always dependable, even when she tried to prove she wasn't. Even her husband, who would never know all her secrets, had a hard time figuring her out. Once however…. She's mentioned that an enemy, a dictator of her life, knew her best of all. Before she could have freedom, she had to be captured.

Maybe she was dead, her thoughts are morose as she finds herself dragged into a new cell. No one is coming for her, no one is going to swoop in to save her. Unavoidable, because her job is to not get caught- get caught and you are worth nothing to them. She knowingly signed up for that, years ago when she was ordered to, but now… all she wants is to go home.

"One year down," her captor tells her softly as her body is flung down to hit the floor, sending pain crashing up through her already numbed body. "Do you believe the CIA is coming for you, or that your husband is thinking of you today, or have they moved on?"

Her mouth is sealed closed; she isn't going to give an inch. She will not dignify that with an answer, but she is going to let herself lie there and bleed.

"You are an American spy," the voice rattles from the shadows, and if she could, she would twist to face him, letting her blatant fear flash across her face. They wouldn't believe her; nothing could convince them of that. She could try though, it was her job.

"I'm not a spy," her voice is broken, ragged from screaming. However, she wants them to see that there is no defiance in her features. "I'm not a spy," she repeats, her voice cracking. She isn't going to let them break her. She was trained to survive this until she is executed by them.

"Give in," the voice's offer is tempting. "No one knows you're missing. No help is coming."

The one speaking to her is new. The former one responsible for prying any answer out of her disliked getting his hands dirty, but the new one has a flair for physical torture. She finds that out as she begins to choke on the water being forced down her throat. When he pulls back, she lies there quietly, managing to continue her deceit that no one believes.

"I-I'm not a spy," she gasps out, and he draws closer, preparing to break her in some other way- she doesn't want, nor need to know how. "Please!" she gasps desperately; her voice cracks again as he pulls her face to the side, examining her for any truth. "I'm a business woman!" she sobs, watching him for any hint of mercy in his face, any at all.

For a moment, she thinks she she's some mercy on his face, but his expression hardens, and she finds herself preparing for the pain that is to come, as she shivers on the cold floor.

Her head cracks back against the cold stone as she withers. No one will ridicule her now, for she knows that she is one of the many to scream, waiting for release.

She is screaming, or at least, she thinks so. She isn't sure because sounds seem to be coming from far away.

Evelyn Salt hears the words coming from far away, from someone that is clinging desperately to a cover broken long ago. "I'm not a spy! I haven't done anything wrong!"

No release comes, and Evelyn Salt screams.

The blonde woke up gasping, pain and fear in her eyes as she felt the needle that was buried into her skin. She thrashed, knowing it was probably too late to resist whatever they had injected into her.

Distantly, she realized someone was calling her by her American name.

"Evelyn!" hands held her down, and she froze as she recognized the voice calling her. Evelyn looked up, reveling in the soft German accent as he stared down at her. "You're in a hospital. You're safe," the man's brown eyes were compassionate as he looked down at her. His eyes were filled with pain, but they were also filled with love.

"Mike," she whispered as the events of her release came rushing back to her, along with a wave of emotion. She felt a tear slip from her eye, running over her cheek as she stared up at him, conflict waging in her eyes.

Evelyn flung her arms around her husband's neck, and began to sob, knowing that since she was going to return to the CIA as soon as a clean bill of health was passed, she deserved this little corner of freedom, even while she knew that her entire presence in America was false, that her life was Evelyn Salt was mostly a lie. However, it didn't matter right now, it wouldn't matter. She hadn't broken, and she earned this little reward.

He patted her back soothingly, and let her cry out all the emotions she had been forced to lock away during her capture. "It's going to be okay," Mike soothed her, and she nodded, not daring to speak the words aloud, lest it all turn out to be one twisted dream.

I know.

Review please!

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.